To Die Or To Kill
by M. Cooper Jinks
Summary: What happens when you announce to the Capitol that you won't be playing by their rules? The story of Henley Townsend's fight for survival through the 68th Hunger Games. (An eleven part one-shot series.)
1. The Reaping: Wilbur Cotton

****Disclaimer****

_I do not own the Hunger Games or any of Suzanne Collins' characters. This is a series of one-shots telling the story of the 68th annual Hunger Games. Each chapter title will include a different aspect of the Games being covered along with a different POV. Of the 11 chapters, 4 will be OC perspectives and the other 7 will be canon. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong><strong><span>To Die or to Kill<span>****

**The Reaping: ****_Wilbur Cotton – District 10 citizen_**

Something's different this year. I can't seem to put my finger on what it is.

As usual, the lucky families celebrate, while the less fortunate ones mourn for the children taken from their homes. However, there is an unsettling stillness left lingering in the air. A feeling of dread that tells me that our Reaping isn't over. I know I'm not the only one who feels it. Every nearby family that surrounds the old Townsend estate senses it too. Like me, they all dread the District 9 Reaping that will soon be announced.

Our tribute selection went by fairly quickly and without delay. It was actually one of the fastest Reapings that I have ever attended. There was very little enthusiasm displayed for the two who were chosen, but I'm sure most were just pleased that it wasn't their own children.

All emotions aside, our tributes are on the older side of the spectrum, so it's safe to assume they'll stand a better chance in the arena. Unfortunately that's not saying a whole lot.

The first one taken was the Rider's daughter. My heart shattered when I saw the look on her mother's face. All it took was a slip of paper and the girl was carted off to the stage without a word. I've met her before. Seventeen years old and she's already just as lovely as her mom. It's no surprise really. All the women in her family have been known for their beauty. But none of that will help her in the Games. If she's lucky, it could possibly get her a sponsor though.

Following her was the Coltrane boy. The crowd seemed relieved at the very mention of his name. Hopeful even. Though he's only eighteen, the boy is still stronger than most of the men in District 10. He's worked alongside enough of them for the majority of the District to know that it's true. If there was ever a tribute who stood a chance of winning, it would be him.

Now our Reaping has passed, and both of our tributes are long gone. Yet for some reason I can't help feeling uneasy until I hear those selected from 9. In my head I think it over and over, hoping I was wrong the first ten times. His twelfth birthday would have been a couple weeks ago. He will be standing out in the District 9 square today, just as I wait in the one we have in 10 to watch.

A cheerful assortment of instruments plays as they announce the District 9 Reaping. The screen lights up with thousands of faces of terrified children. All of the potential tributes. I try to scan for his face, but his is just one amongst thousands. Although it breaks my heart to see so many children forced into this situation, it reassures me to knowing he stands a good chance of not being chosen.

A fifteen year old girl is the first to take the stage. As she walks toward the center, she doesn't even bother to hold back her tears. It's obvious that she's already given up and accepted her fate. A fate that no child should ever have to face.

Ignoring the girl's cries, the man, who is the escort for 9, gives a long pause before attempting to select a male tribute. He stirs the bowl of entries with his fingers, for what feels like hours before he even attempts to grasp one. It's unclear whether he's doing it for dramatic effect, or his own sick amusement. Either way I hate him for it.

Ever so delicately a small slip of paper is selected before…

_"Henley Townsend!"_

My heart sinks deep into my chest, as my own worst fear has been realized. The Townsend boy has been reaped. Right now the entire District 10 square has gone silent. What more is there to say after hearing another one of our own has been sentenced to death?

It wasn't all that long ago he was here. And with his parents too. I remember them well. They were some of the most caring and generous people you could meet. Wealthy, but you wouldn't know it. They were always giving their money away, feeding a great deal of our starving homes. They were always willing to give more than they had. Unfortunately that was also their _crime_.

The father died first. He took a fall into the bullpen and was trampled before he could get out. At least that's the official story they're going with now.

Once the father was gone, the Townsends' fortune was stripped away. Folks on nearby farms did what they could to help the widow and her son. Many were just returning the favor.

At the age of eight, little Henley would work odd jobs on neighboring farms in exchange for a hot meal, for he and his mom. In the mornings he used to come by early and help me collect the eggs in the chicken coops before school. I remember joking with him once that he had already mastered so many different trades that he didn't even need to go to school. It was the funniest thing. Little Henley sat me down as if I were the child and he were the adult, just so he could explain the importance of a good education. He wanted to be a doctor for animals. He was like his mother in that regard.

But it wasn't long before his mother became ill. And just like that the Townsend boy became the Townsend orphan.

There were several families who offered to take care of the child, mine included. But the Capitol wouldn't allow it. He was to be sent off to District 9. They say he has an aunt and uncle there. At least that's what the peacekeepers said anyway. Either way Henley was left with no choice but to pack up and leave District 10 behind.

Everyone assumed he would be okay. He was an oddly mature little runt. Most of his friends at school were at least four years older than him. But that's just how District 10 is. The older ones always look out for the younger ones. Even my own son once said he would volunteer if little Henley's name was ever drawn.

I suppose I should be thankful. Henley being in District 9 now means my son will never have to do such a thing. Not that Henley would have had any shortage of volunteers in District 10. However, it's clear that no one in 9 feels the same way. They're all probably just glad none of their own children were chosen. And I can't really blame them for it.

But I know Henley's name being called was no accident. Like the rest of his family he will have to pay for his father's crimes. However the Capitol deems fit.


	2. The Parade: Lila Bunktrot

**The Parade: ****_Lila Bunktrot – District 1 Stylist_**

This is it! I've waited what's felt like an eternity for this moment, and now the parade is finally here! This is my big chance to show all of Panem what a real stylist can do. Besides it's time for the spotlight shift from that no-talent monstrosity, Tigris. That tacky woman will be a thing of the past because in just a few short moments, all of my hard work will have paid off. There won't be a single tribute from any Games who will compare to the masterpiece I've created out of the pair from District 1.

As the Capitol anthem begins, the crowd goes wild before a single chariot even comes into sight. The anticipation is killing me. And just as my eagerness builds to a point I can no longer bear, the first chariot arrives. The audience erupts into combination of screams and cheers. Within seconds it reaches the point where the Capitol anthem is no longer audible.

As expected, my tributes are stunning. A white suit and gown made up of the finest fabrics District 1 has to offer. Each are embroidered with diamonds and sapphire accents which reflect the Capitol lights brilliantly. Draped over their shoulders, swaying in the wind are long extravagant capes which sparkle as though they're made entirely of emeralds. To top it all off my tributes are crowned with gold that's encrusted with blue and green gemstones.

Every Capitol citizen is in awe of what I've created. The more District 1 shimmers, the louder everyone roars. A few more chariots go by, and I can already hear the commentating of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. They make sure to acknowledge each District, but as they do they continuously return the focus to District 1.

Only a few Districts remain and my designs have successfully stolen the entire show. I have shocked. I have inspired. No one else can even come close to what I've created. This is my moment. This is my parade. I feel like I'm positively glowing. The only thing that's shining brighter than me now is the District 1 chariot. My pride swells and soars to new heights as the applause booms even louder. Only it's not for me. Why isn't it for me? And more importantly, who is it for?

If it wasn't for the thundering praise, I would have completely missed it. District 9. Their chariot is smaller than all the others. And it's only being pulled by one horse. Inside the chariot, the female tribute waves to her admirers. But where's her District partner? And why does this call for a standing ovation.

When I find the boy, both of my questions are answered. He's out front riding the horse. Galloping onward, the little grain covered urchin waves, sending the crowd into an eruption of excitement. This can't be happening! Their costumes are positively dreadful, and yet I've lost everyone's attention. All because District 9 decided to put a twelve year old on a horse.

And just like that every Capitol citizen forgot how they were dazzled and delighted by my costumes. My moment is gone. It's been stolen from me. All I have left is the hope of watching those District 9 brats perish in the arena.


	3. The Scoring: Plutarch Heavensbee

**The Scoring: ****_Plutarch Heavensbee – Gamemaker_**

Such a curious little fellow. I'm not quite sure when he wandered in, but I don't believe anyone else did either. As usual the feast was delivered, and every Gamemaker brought their attention to the food, rather than the tributes. Glazed pork, plump roasted chicken, broiled lobster and a sumptuous variety of decadent desserts took the spotlight the moment they were placed on the tables.

Altogether the banquet is incredibly stunning this year. So much so that the very sight of it all had me so distracted I nearly fell into the Avox bringing in the punch. Thankfully, for my sake, I didn't. How embarrassing would that have been? Plutarch Heavensbee covered in punch. I don't believe I would have ever been able to live that one down.

Since the arrival of dinner I'm not positive how much I've missed. I know the last tribute I saw arrive was the boy from District 8. Unfortunately I don't believe I ever saw him leave. This means I must have missed the District 8 girl altogether because down below is little Henley Townsend from District 9. He's been tinkering with every weapon for who knows how long. Apparently I'm one of the few who's actually noticed his presence.

It's the price that each of the last few Districts must pay I'm afraid. The Gamemakers grow tired and hungry as the private sessions progress. Then when the food arrives, a subconscious intermission is signaled for the majority of Gamemakers. Only it's not an intermission. The tributes continue to show up right on schedule, and their scores depend solely on what few Gamemakers take notice. I know it' not fair to them, but it's the way things have always turned out. No one ever complains since no one bets on the outlying Districts anyway.

This is all rather peculiar though. Most tributes at least try to announce themselves, letting us know that they're here. But not Henley. He's slipped under everyone's radar and now he's sitting in the center next to a stockpile of weapons. The weaponry is supposed to be neatly displayed so each tribute can choose their weapon of choice. Henley has collected them all, keeping them by his side and inspecting them one at a time. He also appears to have moved every practice dummy, placing them in a circular formation surrounding himself and his assortment of weapons.

He seems to be off to a good start. Right now there's one practice dummy with two knives skewered through its head. Another with an axe protruding from its chest and an arrow in its arm. I look to the other Gamemakers hoping someone actually witnessed Henley hit these targets. Unfortunately all of those who are watching seem to be just as confounded as I am.

Without getting up Henley continues sorting through spears, maces and whatever else he can get his tiny hands on. Displeased with what remains, Henley just discards them into a second pile filled with rejected weapons that didn't pass his inspection.

It's all very odd indeed. Henley acts as if he doesn't know we're here. He just continues sorting through all of the deadly devices as if they were simply toys for his amusement. More Gamemakers take notice to what's happening now. A few astounded gasps echo through the silence. Everyone seems to be waiting for Henley to hit another target, disappointed that they missed his earlier feats. However, I remain somewhat skeptical due to our lack of witnesses. Skilled or not, I am intrigued by his session.

As I expected, Henley doesn't attempt to hit another target. He just stands, looks over his work and turns around to exit the training room. From the looks on all of the other Gamemakers' faces, they're extremely impressed with the boy's work. I am too. But for an entirely different reason.

Here I was feeling sorry for the tributes, who couldn't attract our full attention. Now I feel silly. There's not a doubt in my mind that Henley used it to his advantage. Then of course he exited the training room, without even a glance in our direction. In his entire session he never once acknowledged us. It's a terrible shame he'll be in the arena soon. He would have made an excellent Gamemaker.


	4. The Interview: Caesar Flickerman

**The Interview: ****_Caesar Flickerman – Host_**

"Henley Townsend of District 9!" I pronounce exuberantly.

A little boy with sandy brown hair and grey eyes staggers out onto the stage. The audience nearly explodes, while chanting his name over and over again. Apart from being the youngest in the competition this year, Henley's become a fan favorite after his magnificent entrance at the parade.

Once he makes his way to his chair, Henley very politely shakes my hand before taking a seat. I can tell he's nervous by how far he sinks down in his chair. The little ones always do. It breaks my heart to see kids as young as him step into the arena.

Quickly, I snap back into character, reminding myself to not let my smile fade before the interview. I look back over to Henley, who stares blankly at the enormous turnout, and I realize that he is wearing a midnight blue suit.

I turn to the audience with a grin; throw a glance down at my suit, then give a look to Henley. "I see you got the memo," I joke, pointing at our matching suits.

This makes his face go red. "Well if you want to impress, you need to dress like the best," Henley smiles tensely.

The entire audience is booming with laughter now. Henley's off to a good start. I'm pleased. It's always a bit of a challenge trying to get sponsors to notice the little ones. But thankfully, so far Henley has had a good run.

I wait for the laughter to slowly die down. Then I turn to back to Henley to start the interview. "Now Henley, I was watching the scores come in the other day and I noticed you managed to get a 10. I'm pretty sure that's a first for someone of your age. I've been dying to ask. How did you pull that one off?"

"Um…" He seems worried. I catch his eyes glance toward the Gamemakers before he responds. "Truth is I sort of forgot they were there. I may have gotten a little carried away in my session."

The audience cheers. "Oh I see," I say, while smiling knowingly at our spectators. "The other tributes are going to need to look out for you then. You may be the one to beat."

Henley shrugs, but this only makes the audience even more energetic.

Again I wait for the commotion to die down before I continue. "Henley you surprised everyone at the parade. What was it that inspired your team to put you out front riding the horse?"

This question seems to relax Henley. "Well I asked my stylist if I could ride one of the horses, and he said yes."

Once again the audience roars with laughter. "So I'm guessing that means you like animals?" I smile.

Henley perks up. "Oh yes. I love animals. I used to work with them all the time when I lived in District 10. I've even decided that I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up."

Henley is immediately awed by the audience, while I do my best to maintain my smile. It's difficult when the only words that stick in my head are '_When I grow up_.' I know full well that the odds of little Henley Townsend getting a chance to grow up aren't very promising. But I continue my questions anyway.

"So you used to live in District 10?" I pause and give a quick look to the audience. "Did you all hear that? Ladies and gentlemen, the boy of two Districts!"

The crowd roars with excitement. I've given them something to remember him by. Hopefully it helps him get noticed a little more by the sponsors.

Henley waits to reply until the thundering applause settle down. "Yes, I used to live in 10 until my parents died. Now I live with my aunt and uncle in 9." And just like that. The entire room silences. Henley Townsend, the orphan of two Districts. That will certainly give them something to talk about tomorrow.

"Well I'm very sorry to hear that. I'm sure right now, your parents would be very proud of you," I sympathize with Henley. "And I know without a doubt that your parents will be even more proud after you fight your way to the top and win this whole thing!"

The entire audience has risen to their feet, applauding boisterously. This is the liveliest I have seen them yet tonight. I peek over at Henley and his expression has already shifted back to uneasy again. "Thank you," he says graciously. "But I don't really plan on killing anyone." Silence consumes the room again. "It's just I think that not killing is what will make my parents proud the most," he explains.

If I wasn't already looking at the audience I would have just assumed that they weren't here. There's nothing. Not a sound. I've given up trying to hold onto my smile. I'm too shocked to even attempt it at this point. Did he really just say that? Quickly I try to reason with him just in case I may have misunderstood. "Henley, you do realize that you will need to fight to the death in order to survive this?"

The response I get in return is even more astounding. It's definitely not an answer I expected to come from a twelve year old boy.

"I'm not afraid to die."

And with that, our time runs out. I shake Henley's hand, show him off to the audience one last time and then send him on his way.

Good luck Henley Townsend. _You're going to need it_.


	5. The Cornucopia: Claudius Templesmith

**The Cornucopia: ****_Claudius Templesmith –Announcer _**

"Welcome one and all to the 68th annual Hunger Games!

Right now it's only a matter of time before we see all our favorite tributes rise to their platforms!

Before they do, I've just have to say _look at this arena_! Isn't it incredible? I don't know how the Gamemakers were able to get the Cornucopia to balance on the side of a mountain like that, but I can't wait to see how our tributes handle it. I've noticed that the opening of the Cornucopia is actually facing downward to make it easier for those tributes running uphill versus those running down. This should be interesting to see how it all plays out.

Now I'm thinking a few of our tributes might try to make their way up the mountain and take their chances in the snowy terrain. But I'm guessing the majority will run down to take shelter in the woods below.

I've just got to say I'm excited! This may not be the first time that the arena has incorporated a mountain, but it's definitely the first time that the arena was a mountain. Usually all our tributes start out on a level playing field. I can't wait to see how they handle being thrown into this uneven terrain.

Oh, is it time already? I do believe it is! The tributes are now rising to their platforms and the countdown has begun. The anticipation is killing me! Right now, most of the tributes are still trying to take in their surroundings. But you can see the eagerness growing in some of these opponents already.

Oh, wait it looks as though one of the tributes is panicking. She's losing her balance! And…Oh, ouch! There goes her mine! Now is not the time to get vertigo folks!

The countdown is almost finished! 3…2…1! And they're off! Yes, here's the moment that makes all the difference. Seeing who gets to the Cornucopia first!

Well as expected, it looks like Districts 1 and 2 have reached the Cornucopia first. A great deal of the tributes actually appear to be heading to the forest already. One of which is the lovely Lavinia Rider from District 10. And it's no surprise to see little Henley Townsend from District 9 doing the same. It looks like he managed to pick up a pack along the way too.

Uh oh, looks like trouble. A couple of the tributes appear to have fallen and are now tumbling down the mountainside. Ooh, looks like District 6 may have broken something!

I've got to hand it to the Gamemakers folks! This year's Games have already given everyone something to remember!"


	6. The Gamemakers: Seneca Crane

**The Gamemakers: ****_Seneca Crane - Gamemaker_**

It's frustrating having to sit here and watch someone else call the shots. Especially while knowing I could easily get the job done myself. This particular Head Gamemaker has managed to hold his position for over sixteen years now. No one else has been able to accomplish that since the first Head Gamemaker.

I admit there was a time when I idolized this man. He was clever and creative. He was always able to see the outcome of the Games before anyone else, just as a good Gamemaker should. But there was something more to him than that. Most Gamemakers just sit around calculating the risks and probabilities of potential scenarios and outcomes. They think of it all as one big science experiment.

Not him though. He had a way of making the Games seem more like a form of art than a science. In his early years people used to say that each arena was just a stage to him, and that all of the tributes were merely actors that moved about by his will alone.

It wasn't just something people said though. It was a fact, and no one questioned it. He had a natural ability of being able to predict tribute-behavior before even the tribute could. With it, he was able to predict the winner with consistent accuracy. He knew it wasn't just about the strongest tribute winning. It was about who the fans wanted to see win. And so, he made it possible.

Now look at him. He can't even figure out how kill off a twelve year old tribute from an outlier District. Henley Townsend has outsmarted this senile old fool at every turn. And it's shown everyone how much his mind has deteriorated over the years.

Orders are carried out to catapult bombs over the forest. Henley manages to survive the explosions. Evidently the Head Gamemaker was so concerned with avoiding the appearance of a blatant execution that he didn't ensure the blast radius would lead to Henley's demise. Consequently we are ordered to use the burning forest to engulf the boy in flames. Henley simply outruns the fire. Naturally, we are asked to make the flames move faster. So we do. Finally enough of the forest is burning that the only place for Henley to run is a freshwater spring filled with fish muttations that can leap from the water and devour him alive. Only the stupid fish aren't accurate enough outside of water, so they soar right past him into the fire. Fantastic! Now we've probably just given him enough food for an entire week.

It's obvious what needs to be done to kill the boy. He announced his weakness to all of Panem during the interview. _He's not killing anyone_. All we need to do is lure him towards his competition. The other tributes will take care of it from there. He can't fight back. Well, he won't fight back. But either way, it doesn't matter when our Head Gamemaker is ordering us to do everything except what needs to be done.

It's gotten embarrassing. I don't even think most of it will air. I have no doubt in my mind that this will be the Head Gamemaker's last year. The only real question is who's going to replace him.


	7. The Ally: Lavinia Rider

**The Ally: ****_Lavinia Rider – District 10 Tribute_**

From the time I was born, people always said I looked exactly like my aunt Lavinia. So much so that my parents even named me after her. I've never actually met the woman, but it's been said that she was once the most beautiful girl in all of District 10. Although I'm not exactly sure where she is now, my mom says that she resides somewhere in the Capitol. Because of her beauty, she got to escape the poverty and starvation of District 10 and live a life of excess. Lucky her.

My parents had hoped that I would be the same. That one day the Capitol would take me away and give me a better life. I never let my expectations get too high though. I've heard that such things were possible. That Capitol representatives could come into the Districts and offer the most attractive men and women a chance for a new life. But it's not really a common occurrence for anyone to be chosen in District 10. Most Capitol beauties are usually plucked from Districts 1 and 2.

Well I guess my parents were half right. I made it to the Capitol after all. However, I don't quite think my parents expected it to be like this. The last thing they wanted was their only daughter running through a giant deathtrap, fighting for her life.

_Crunch!_

The sound of leaves. Someone's coming! I hasten my pace to put some distance between us. I don't want to sprint just yet. Not until I'm positive which direction the footsteps are coming from. I weave through the tightly grouped pines until I come to a spring of sparkling blue water, shielded from sight by massive boulders and overhanging branches. On top of one of the boulders I see the other tribute. Henley Townsend.

I remember him from home. Or at least when he was living at home. He used to stop by every once in a while to help my father with the herd. I remember laughing at him one day, thinking he was strangest little thing I had ever seen. He was probably about eight at the time. He was off playing with dogs, imitating them and running alongside them as they chased and barked after the sheep. He even barked with them too.

I always pitied Henley though. He was never someone I considered to be very lucky. Nothing ever seemed to turn out right for him. I shouldn't have ever had any doubts that he would end up here in the games. That being said I don't know whose name I was more surprised to hear at the Reapings; his or mine.

As I cautiously advance, I realize that Henley is fast asleep on top of that boulder. The footsteps weren't his. My body tenses as I listen for movement. Sure enough I can hear them out in the distance growing closer.

I can't leave him here, but I can't call out to him either. I have to stay quiet, so I snatch a stone from the earth and hurl it across the spring, hitting Henley in his side. Immediately the boy springs to life just as the stone splashes into the water.

The footsteps are louder and more frequent. Henley can hear them too. I signal for him to run, before I take off in the opposite direction, making as much noise as I possibly can. Henley may not have had much luck in the past, but he will today.


	8. The Careers: Brutus

**The Careers: ****_Brutus – District 2 Mentor_**

I can remember everything from when I was a tribute. The first thing my mentors taught me was to strike quickly and never let my guard down. They taught me _the kill_ was no place for emotion. It was simple. You see a tribute, you kill him, and then you move on to the next one. You never want to spend too much time fighting with a single tribute. It only creates opportunity for others to join or flee. This is the strategy that I've always stood by. It's the reason I'm still here today. It may not be the most exciting line of attack to the viewers at home, but it gets the job done.

In my Games there was never a tribute to cross my path who lived long enough to be killed by someone else. Even as a mentor I've tried my best to keep it that way. It's how I've ended up producing more Victors than anyone else. Unfortunately for me, this year's tributes don't seem to care much about strategy. Only blood.

I should have realized it sooner. Whenever I wanted to discuss tactics, all they seemed to care about was hearing Enobaria describe in graphic detail how she used to rip people's throats out with her teeth. I should have known right then that these trained killers were more her tributes than they were mine.

I've never been able to see eye to eye with Enobaria. I focus on winning and bringing pride to our District. She only seems to care about bloodlust and putting on a good show. That being said, I still wish that this year's tributes were as gentle as her.

Neither of us realized how sadistic this pair was until they stepped into the arena. After the Cornucopia, the District 1 careers grouped with ours as usual. Only it didn't last very long. Our tributes decided to spend the night hunting down the pair from District 4. I suppose they were upset with them for not joining the career pack.

Once they found them, the District 4 tributes were tortured for hours before they were finally allowed to die. Their smiles never faded until District 4's screams were finally silenced. After that, District 1 realized how vicious and twisted our tributes really were, so they bolted before Day 2.

The couple from District 1. Now they seem more like the tributes that I usually train. They're efficient. They kill quickly, and then they move on. They don't seek out vengeance or amuse themselves with the cries of their prey. They only do what is necessary.

Meanwhile, the District 2 tributes take their time. They like to toy with their victims before ripping them apart. It's sickening. I've already stopped caring whether they win. In fact, part of me hopes that they don't. There isn't a single tribute left in this arena that can bring our District any pride. I suspect that the other District 2 mentors must've known this would happen. At least now it makes sense why Lyme and Livia refused to help out this year.

Right now there are only eight tributes left. Our tributes are chasing after the girl from 10, like a couple of wild dogs. If they catch her, there's no telling what they'll do. Lucky for her, she's fast. Fast enough to outrun them going uphill. Neither of the District 2 tributes can match her speed. Unfortunately as she swiftly breaks through the edge of the forest, her momentum carries her right into the sword of the boy from District 1. At that moment all I can think is, _Good_ _for her. She got a quick death after all._

The next thing the cameras catch is District 2 reaching the spot where the girl's body lies. Enraged by their stolen kill, our tributes charge after 1. Our male tribute has just enough time to throw an axe into the head of the District 1 girl, before her partner guts him with a sword. Our girl knows she can't overtake him head on, so she retreats back down the mountainside. And just like that, eight tributes shrink to five.


	9. The Mutts: Haymitch Abernathy

**The Mutts: ****_Haymitch Abernathy – District 12 Mentor_**

Time for another drink. What starts out as a mere swig of white liquor turns into yet another attempt to relieve a thirst I cannot quench. So I keep on drinking, allowing the sweet nectar to carry the burn past my tongue and fill the rest of my body with its warmth.

Once again, District 12 is out of the running. I shouldn't have let myself get too hopeful, but the boy lasted extraordinarily long this year. That is, until the girl from 2 found him. She attacked him like some kind of wild animal, and once she had him in her grasp, she prolonged his death for her own personal enjoyment. I'm sure in between screams the boy was envious of his district partner's quick death at the cornucopia. But now he's gone, and I'm afraid there's nothing left to do except drink and watch the rest of bloodbath.

At least I'm not alone. Things haven't gone too well for Chaff either. He's been in the bar since Day 1. This is the third year in a row that District 11 has been slaughtered within the first twenty minutes. Thankfully Livia Thorne, a mentor from District 2, has been with him the whole time to keep him company.

Livia hasn't bothered to help mentor her District this year. She was supposed to. She just chose not to show up. I believe her exact words were that the District 2 tributes are nothing but a couple of _out of control shit-beasts with absolutely no trace of humanity_. And I can't say I blame her. Especially after seeing what happened to my last tribute.

I assume Chaff and Livia have been at it all day. Chaff has a few empty bottles of bourbon scattered next to him, while he works on polishing off another. Then there's Livia who's swaying back and forth, as if she's listening to a song no one else can hear.

"Oh no, please tell me you're not about to start singing," I tease.

Livia's eyes light up as she laughs. "A couple more drinks and I will be," she smirks.

"Well what are you waiting for then? Have another drink!" Chaff eggs her on, practically knocking over his bourbon as he tries to pass Livia an empty glass.

I glance over at the screen to see who's left in the games. Four tributes. There's the boy from 1, the sadistic girl from 2, a girl from 6 who broke her leg at the cornucopia, and the little twelve year old from 9. District 1 seems to be the only one who's content at the moment. Right now everyone else is involved in some sort of chase. The girl from 6 is limping for her life as the vicious girl from 2 pursues her. Meanwhile the little boy from 9 seems to be running from a pack of giant wolf mutts.

This year there almost seems to be two games playing out simultaneously. There's the normal bloodbath between the competing tributes. However there's also a separate game being played between the little boy from 9 and the Gamemakers. They've been trying to kill him off in so many ways I feel like they've probably forgotten about the other tributes completely. I suppose that's what you get for announcing to all of Panem that you don't want to play the Capitol's games.

"You know that's Colt Townsend's boy," Chaff stammers loudly.

"It can't be. Colt was here mentoring a few years ago," I point out. "He can't be–"

"He's dead," Chaff says practically shouting. "He got caught spreading his winnings through his entire District. Now he and his wife are dead, and his son is in the Games. Doesn't sound like he upset the Capitol too badly, does it?"

"Well it wouldn't be the worst thing the Capitol's ever done."

Taking another drink, I turn back to the Games. The girl from 6 has been caught. Unfortunately that little monster from 2 doesn't kill her. She starts off by breaking the girl's good leg. Immediately the camera footage switches back to the district 9 boy. The Capitol has refused to display the majority of District 2 kills this year due to the disturbing nature of them. I've got to say that's a first.

For a moment I'm distracted by the drunken cheers heard throughout the bar. They're all applauding Livia, who must have finished her drinks because now everything she says is in song form. "_Brave little Henley may the odds be ever in your favor_," she cheers while singing.

It's official. Livia is so disgusted with the girl from her own district that she's now openly rooting for the opposition. At least she's reminded me of what the little boy's name is.

The wolf mutts appear to have chased Henley right up a tree. This doesn't discourage them though. The wolves wait at the base of the trunk howling and growling, trying to claw their way up. Henley ignores their menacing sounds as he inspects various branches.

At last Henley seems to have found what he was searching for. He grabs hold of a sturdy looking branch tightly, while placing his feet firmly on a lower weaker branch. Then he starts to jump.

As he pounces harder and harder, the lower branch finally snaps falling below. This causes the majority of the wolf pack to disperse, leaving one behind pinned under the branch. The solid black wolf mutt whimpers loudly as Henley maneuvers his way back down. But Henley doesn't leave. Instead he kneels beside the mutt and tends to his wounds. Then he makes a small incision in the dark fur, so he can pull out what would probably look like shrapnel to most viewers. But I know full well what he's just done. He's pulled out the mutts tracker. The very tracker that keeps him under Capitol control.

The screen immediately switches to the district 1 boy. He's in a cave sleeping. Not exactly what the viewers want to see at the moment, but it's all the Capitol can take a chance on showing. The district 6 girl is being tortured so brutally that the Capitol doesn't want to display any of it, and Henley's being so clever that the Capitol doesn't want to run the risk embarrassment.

By the time they show Henley again, the wolf is out from under the branch and Henley is left with his own personal attack mutt. I can't help but wonder how he's tamed the beast. Either way, the kid just may be smart enough to pull this whole thing off.


	10. The Finale: Henley Townsend

**The Finale: ****_Henley Townsend – District 9 Tribute_**

"C'mon Pup," I call out.

Right away my wolf mutt obeys, hastening his pace as the moonlight gleams across his black coat. As he comes up alongside me, I toss him the last of the cooked meat from my pack. Might as well let him finish it off. I know I won't be needed it anymore. It's the finale. Only three tributes remain. Just me, the boy from 1 and the girl from 2.

Personally, I hope the boy from 1 wins. I'd prefer to be killed off by him anyhow. The girl is vicious. I've heard some of the other tributes scream for hours before she would finally let them die. It's why I can imagine that the Capitol is probably rooting for her. She'd be the one to give them a finale to remember.

Part of me wonders, if it came down to me and her, could I kill her? I know she's a monster. I know she's probably the one who killed the Rider's daughter. But could I really kill someone?

I think of the Rider family and how they were always kind to me. And then there's Lavinia, who looked out for me up until the very end. Part of me believes that the girl from 2 deserves to die. But then another part me reminds myself of my parents. This isn't what they would have wanted. They wouldn't have wanted me to become a monster.

I can feel a cold nose press up against the palm of my hand, searching for more food. "It's all gone Pup," I say wiping my hands. In return I let him wander off in search of more food. It probably wouldn't be a very good idea to take him with me anyhow.

In the beginning I had hoped for a more dangerous landscape. An arena where all I would need to do would be to survive longer than the other tributes. A place where I wouldn't have to kill in order to live. Now that I've realized that's no longer a possibility, I've come to terms with the fact that I have to die. I may not be able to kill the other tributes, but they can kill me.

As I walk to my death I see the glimmer of the cornucopia. Alongside it there's the outline of a person. Gradually, I tread closer to see that it's the boy from district 1. Good. I was hoping it would be him.

I stand there waiting for him to strike. Surprised by my unwillingness to fight or flee, a look of sympathy crosses his face. Nodding his head as though he understands what I mean for him to do, he steps forward sword in hand, but without aggression. One look in his eyes and I know he'll give me a quick death.

Just as the boy has me within his reach, he stops. I can't help but wonder. Has he changed his mind? Why hasn't he killed me yet? That's when I notice his eyes bulge as his mouth gasps for air. His body heaves and wrenches until the tip of a spear breaks out from his chest, ripping open his ribcage.

What little life remains of the boy falls to the ground revealing the girl from district 2 behind him. Grinning ear to ear, she stares eagerly at me waiting. In her hand she clutches onto a bloodstained dagger. I can only imagine the things she's done to the other tributes with that. I remember how their screams echoed across the mountainside, crying out for it to be over. Now it's my turn. Fear builds up inside me. I don't know what to do. So I bolt.

I find myself running as fast as I can. I thought I was ready to die when I reached the boy from district 1, but things have changed. If I'm going to die, I don't want it to be her. Not like this. Anything but this. My feet pick up speed, but I can hear her gaining on me.

I try to think of an alternative. If there's a spring nearby I could try to drown myself. Although she'd probably pull me from the water before I could even pass out. Perhaps if there's a cliff, then I could throw myself off. However, I don't see any nearby, and she's still gaining on me. Of course if I run fast enough down the mountainside, I could trip and fall, possibly breaking my neck. That could work. Too bad I didn't think of it sooner.

The girl grabs hold of me and with one swift pull, throws me to the ground. My head is spinning from crashing to the ground with such a hard thump. As I regain focus, the crazed girl is already on top of me with one hand wrapped around my throat and the other driving a dagger into my arm. Of course she chooses my arm. She doesn't want to risk killing me too quickly. She'll settle for maiming me to start.

As the dagger bores into my limb, the pain is so intense that I can't stop myself from crying out. In return the girl smiles. She seems to enjoy the screams. She likes knowing how much pain she can cause. She craves every bit of proof that indicates her torturing is sufficient enough.

My head is racing. _Not like this. Please not like this_. It's all I can think while she carves into me laughing. I shut my eyes. I can't look at her for another moment. I just want it to be over already.

At once, I hear a loud rumbling noise followed by a shriek. Then I feel the girl's weight lifted from me. My eyes open, but she's nowhere in my line of sight. Off in the distance I can see the cornucopia and the dead boy from district 1, but nothing else. I try to get up, but I can't. The pain in my arm is searing. The girl's dagger has been left in my shoulder.

I wince as I pry the weapon from my arm, then rise slowly to regain my footing. Two cannons sound. The boy from 1 must have finally stopped breathing. But where's the girl?

I find her near the edge of the woods being ripped to shreds by a wall of solid black fur. It's Pup. He must have heard me screaming and came running. The giant wolf mutt's eyes shift to meet mine. Immediately he abandons his scraps and comes to check on me. Then I hear a thundering voice declare one single statement. A statement that I never thought I would hear.

_"__Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the 68__th__Hunger Games, Henley Townsend of District 9!" _


	11. The Victor: President Snow

**The Victor:** **_President Snow_**

"So what you're telling me is that the Gamemakers were outsmarted by a twelve year old?" I ask calmly.

The fidgety old man squirms, while trying to think of an appropriate response that pleases me. But it doesn't matter. By the end of this conversation, he will be dead, and a new Head Gamemaker will be chosen to replace him. "Sir, we tried to…"

"Clearly not hard enough," I cut in. "Otherwise how could a simple child survive to the finish, without the need to kill any of his opponents?" The old man tries to come up with an answer, but I'm already bored with him. Plus his excuses only seem to agitate me further.

"Sir we've already killed the mutt. We just need to…"

"Well I should certainly hope so," I interject. "The thing was obviously defective. For good measure, have the rest of those beasts scrapped as well."

Without missing a second he agrees, taking it all down. Not that he needs to write any of it. I've already had the order carried out hours ago. Still the senseless halfwit persists with his excuses and apologies.

I motion him to stop his incessant ramblings. Then I smile and offer him a drink. My Avox pours the wine. White for me. And red for him.

The old fool relaxes slightly, as he takes his first sip. "Thank you, sir. Again, I apologize for these unfortunate circumstances. We will be more prepared next year."

"Yes, I believe we will. In fact, I'm preparing as we speak." I wait for his eyes to meet mine. A look of panic crosses his face. Then he collapses to floor.

"It's a shame really. Seventeen Games and he just throws it all away." I turn to the Avox. "Clean this mess up. Will you?"

Now I just have to decide on an appropriate punishment for the child. Killing him would be too simple. Being an orphan he's already too familiar with death as it is.

No, death is not what he's afraid of. What he's afraid of is being the one to cause it. The reason the Districts praise him is the same reason he can be defeated. The boy would rather die than kill. That is his true weakness.

Well if killing is what he's afraid of, then killing is what he will do. From now on he will be the only mentor for District 9. From now on, the fate of every District 9 tribute will be in his hands. _Their blood will be on his hands_. It's the perfect fate for a boy who doesn't want to kill.

**The End**

End Notes:

**_Henley Townsend Will Return_**

_Enter the__ Inferno __to find out how_


End file.
